The Last Valkyrie Series Complete Boxed Set

by Karina Espinosa

  I tore my gaze away and stared at the donut muncher. “How lovely for you to join me.” I gave him a lazy smile. “It’s not polite to—”

  “It’s not polite to butcher an innocent young woman, but here we are.” He slapped the crime scene photos on top of the table where my cuffed hands rested.

  I snorted.

  “Oh, you think this is funny?”

  “I find it idiotic you’d think I’d never seen a crime show before.”

  His face turned beet-red, and he huffed at my audacity. The whole bad cop routine was comical, especially since I was almost positive Detective Callahan was behind the one-way mirror, ready to bust through the door and play the good cop. Dummies.

  “You see this woman?” He pointed at a picture of Kendall’s corpse. I didn’t look at it. “She died a slow and painful death. She bled out for hours lying on a dirty bar floor in her own pool of blood. And you mean to tell me you didn’t hear her cries for help?

  That was exactly what happened, but I didn’t say anything. With all the pills and alcohol I’d consumed, I was surprised I was still awake.

  There was no point in defending myself. He thought I was guilty, and until forensics came back to prove my innocence, I figured I’d just put up with his basic interrogation skills in the meantime. Valkyries had a more effective technique that involved a lot of screaming—from our victims.

  “Look at her!” He slammed a palm on the metal desk. I didn’t flinch. My gaze slowly fell on the pictures before me, and I schooled my expression when I saw her body. Blond hair was coated in dark blood. One eye had been popped out of her socket leaving a dark, gaping hole while the other eye stared up at the camera. Her mouth was open as if she’d been screaming. None of it fazed me—I’d seen enough death to last multiple lifetimes. What shocked me was her chest and abdomen. She was naked from the waist up. Two lines were carved parallel to each other with another connecting them horizontally, but it was slanted. It looked as if it were an N or maybe a sloppy H.

  Nonetheless, it gave me pause. I recognized the symbol. It was a rune, but I couldn’t remember what it meant. This writing went back to the first century. It was so long ago, and my memory failed me. Add the missing eye to the mix and I got a sinking feeling in my gut.

  Not being able to remember what the marking meant frustrated the hell out of me. Detective Thompson became background noise as he hollered and rambled on about how I was a murdering monster, while I wracked my brain to place the symbol. Prison didn’t scare me, but having someone around from the old land did. There aren’t any Vikings left in the world, and the valkyries were gone, so who could have done this?

  This had to be a message for me—

  “Are you listening?” Thompson interrupted my thoughts and got up close and personal as I caught spittle on my face. I wiped it off with my shoulder and stared at him, unmoving. “You killed the wrong girl. Police Commissioner Carter will not rest until you’re rotting in a cell.”

  I wasn’t going to cave to a human.

  Detective Callahan took that moment to join the fun. He carried another manila folder and handed it to Thompson, who scanned it and grinned. He tossed the folder to me as if I’d be able to grab it, but I was still cuffed to the table.

  “Forensics is back from the murder weapon,” he smirked. “Your fingerprints are all over it.”

  I swallowed a knot that had suddenly formed in my throat. It was impossible. There was no way I killed Kendall. I was with Fen last night. Could he have done it?

  “I’m being framed.”

  “Of course you are.” Thompson rolled his eyes. “Is that your only defense?”

  I shrugged. It didn’t matter what I said at this point; DNA was all they needed, and I was guilty.

  “Enjoy prison, Miss Romero,” Thompson said gleefully. He picked up his folders and left. This was probably the fastest he’d ever closed a case. I wanted to laugh.

  The chair screeched against the floor as Detective Callahan sat across from me. He’d ditched the suit jacket and tie, having loosened the top buttons of his shirt.

  “You moved here roughly two months ago. What made you choose Portland?”

  “The hipsters.”

  His jaw ticked. “You moved here from Maine. That’s quite the change of scenery.”

  I leaned back. “I’m liking the current view.”

  “How long did you know Kendall Carter?”

  “Only a few hours.”

  Callahan scratched at his scruffy facial hair, and those bedroom eyes assessed me very carefully. “What made you choose her?”

  “She came to me.”

  “Do you always go home with patrons from the bar? How many women have you taken up to your apartment?”

  “I take men too,” I smirked.

  His face hardened as he glared at me. He straightened, and I could tell he was getting uncomfortable. He was a good-looking man. The type who didn’t put too much effort into his looks but got laid on a regular basis.

  “Look, Will, can I call you Will?” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table.

  “No,” he deadpanned.

  “Here’s the thing, Will. If I wanted to kill that woman, I wouldn’t have left her body and gone upstairs to take a nap after my homicidal activities. I’m obviously being framed.”

  Those intense eyes rolled over me as if trying to figure out if I were lying or not. I could see the doubt in his gaze. It really did seem ridiculous. Even the most amateur serial killer wouldn’t be stupid enough to do this.

  I contemplated telling him I’d spent the night with Fen, but I honestly didn’t know what good that would do. I didn’t even know where he lived or have a phone number to reach him. Fen was a ghost, and using him as an alibi for the second time seemed suspicious. It wasn’t a coincidence the man showed up the same day I met Kendall. I didn’t believe in coincidences. Fen had something to do with this.

  “What’s inside the trunk?” Will motioned his head to the trunk.

  Well, isn’t this a random question?

  “Junk.”

  “If it’s junk, why not open it?”

  I grinned. “Because its none of your business.”

  His curiosity was going to get the best of him. Humans were so damn curious, always wanting to know everything and stopping at nothing until they get the truth. I could see it in William Callahan—he wasn’t going to let that trunk go.

  “Your fingerprints are on the murder weapon. How?”

  “My fingerprints are all over that damn bar.”

  “If you’re innocent, you’d better get a lawyer.” He stood.

  “I don’t need one.”

  “Why don’t you seek counsel? It’s not looking good for you, Miss Romero.”

  I let out an exasperated sigh and shrugged. It wasn’t looking good, but I wouldn’t count on a crappy public defender to get me out of this mess.

  “Raven,” he said my name like we were friends, “what are you hiding?”

  I kept quiet. My mind raced as I assessed every bit of our interaction. Will was tough but compassionate. It was in his voice.

  “I’m trying to help you!” he yelled in frustration.

  “Isn’t your job to get me locked up? You’re really bad at this detective gig.”

  His eyes hardened, and his nostrils flared as he stared me down. “I’m trying to understand you, Miss Romero.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Oh, so I’m not Raven anymore?”

  His eyes narrowed before he packed up his papers and left me in the interrogation room to be processed.

  I’d survived long enough to know they didn’t have a solid case. Because I worked at the bar, my fingerprints would logically be everywhere. It wouldn’t hold in court and they’d lose. It was why Will sat with me for a while and did the good cop routine to get me to confess. I wasn’t buying it. A random human didn’t commit this murder on a killing spree. This was deliberate, a clear message for me and me alone. Which meant I needed
to get the hell out of here because I was a sitting duck.

  So I waited.

  It was now or never.

  My wrists were cuffed and attached to a metal hoop that had me chained to the table. Hoping no one was watching through the one-way mirror, I took a few deep breaths and yanked my hands back until the chains snapped. Metal clanked on the table and I was set free. Not wasting time, I went straight for the camera at the corner of the room and smashed it on the ground. They didn’t need to see this.

  With the bracelets of the cuffs still on my wrist, I dragged a chair to the window and hopped up. Pulling the bars apart with inhuman strength, I made an opening big enough for me to slide out. Climbing off the chair and grabbing the back of it, I flung it toward the window and shattered the glass.

  The alarm rang, and I only had seconds to make my escape. Gripping the top of the windowsill, I pulled myself up, exiting legs first. At that moment, Will burst into the room and halted in shock. I was sitting on the ledge three stories high.

  “Raven,” he said, startled.

  “It was nice chatting, Will. See ya never.” I grinned and jumped out the window.

  “Raven!” he yelled after me.

  I closed my eyes, enjoying the free fall, the wind blowing my hair back. I extended my arms beside me, slightly bent my knees, and landed safely on the ground.

  I peered up at the window I’d jumped from and saw a stunned Detective William Callahan. He stared for a split second before he began to bark orders to capture me.

  I’d landed on the sidewalk and went to the first car I saw where a husky guy sat in his Dodge Charger. I opened the door, grabbed him by his neck, and flung him out of the car. With the keys in the ignition, I reversed and peeled out onto traffic like the Devil himself were after me. The tires squealed, and I flew down the road before the cops even exited the building.

  5

  It’s easy to blame others for your shortcomings. You don’t have to look in the mirror and see all the flaws—even the nonphysical ones. Those are the ones that hurt the most. They’re the ugliest. The ugly side of me was saying, “Run. Get out of Dodge and never look back. A human life isn’t worth the trouble.” Something was bothering me though. I could run—continue with my miserable life without a hitch—but the question remained: Would the murderer follow me wherever I go? My sins were catching up to me. How long could I hide from them?

  My apartment was the last place I could go because it would be the first place they’d look. Like I told the detective, I wasn’t stupid. All I had to do was wait this out a bit and try to sneak my belongings out of my apartment. Whether I was leaving for another city or sticking around to find who was framing me, I didn’t know. I hadn’t decided yet.

  I ditched the Charger in a random field, and after searching the glove compartment for some change, I found the owner’s wallet instead.

  These humans and their idiocy. Who the hell leaves their wallet in the car?

  The walk to the nearest gas station made me nervous. I was out in the open and constantly looking over my shoulder. I went to the car furthest out while the owner was inside paying for gas, and making quick work, I hot-wired the car and shot out of the gas station toward the highway heading south.

  Two months. That was how long I lasted in Oregon. It was the shortest I’d ever been in one place. Typically, I’d been able to stick around for a few years. The only downside was I was now a fugitive on the run. I moved from place to place because I never aged, but now I had to worry if people recognized me. If I were being truthful with myself, the situation had me shaken up.

  “Shit!” I slammed my hands on the steering wheel. “Who the hell killed Kendall Carter?” I mused.

  I had two options: I could hide out in a motel and kill time before I went back for my trunk or find out what that rune means. I already knew I was going to regret my decision.

  The car drifted as I pulled an unexpected U-turn and headed back to the city.

  The whole idea was absurd.

  I should have been waiting things out until I could steal back my stuff and leave town. It’s what I would have done, but something kept me tethered here. I didn’t know what, though, and that idea alone frightened me. Not much scared me nowadays, but this was different. Someone knew who I was.

  I rang the bell at the help desk insistently as I scoped out the vacant library. It was a ghost town, and I kept looking over my shoulder anticipating the cops. If there was one thing I never did, it was underestimate the humans—and Detective Callahan seemed like a clever one.

  “Hello?” I yelled. My voice echoed between the bookshelves. A small yelp came from the back corner, and I followed the whimper until I ran into someone. I nearly knocked the girl down in my haste and clutched her shoulders to keep her upright.

  In a flowing, pastel-colored skirt and a tucked-in blouse, she dropped the stack of books she held in her hands. Thick, black-rimmed glasses covered her eyes, and she wore sensible footwear that suggested she was on her feet a lot. Her blond hair was pulled into a ponytail, with a few messy strands poking out.

  “You,” she said, startled. “What … uh … how did you … why did you find me?”

  I raised a brow. Well, wasn’t this a surprise. The girl from the bar … what’s her name?

  “Charity?”

  She grimaced. “Charlie.”

  “Right! Charlie.” I snapped my fingers. “So … friend—”

  “I’m not your friend.”

  “I need your help. And after the little situation I helped you out of, you kinda owe me.” I shrugged as I mindlessly adjusted her shirt.

  Her eyes widened behind those glasses and she gulped, taking a step back. A sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead, and it made me want to laugh. She was scared.

  “I never asked for your help.”

  “Semantics.” I looked over my shoulder to double-check no one was there and then returned my focus to her. “Now what I need from you is simple. Just direct me to your collection of Norse Mythology, particularly runes. And not the fluffy shit either. I need the real deal.”

  We both bent down to pick up the books she’d dropped, and she snatched them out of my hands and hefted them in her arms.

  Her eyes narrowed, contemplating whether to help me or not. “Follow me,” Charlie said as she tilted her head to the front. I attempted to help her with the books again, but she shook her head. She didn’t want any more of my help, and I didn’t blame her. My assistance came with conditions.

  We returned to the help desk, where she emptied her arms and went behind the computer. “We have a small collection of texts on runes. I could pull them and have them ready by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “No. I need them now,” I insisted.

  Charlie pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “S-Sorry?” she stuttered. “They’re in the restricted area. I need approval before checking out any of the books.”

  “That sounds like a personal problem. I need those books now.”

  Her face reddened, and she looked around the library as if someone would come to her aid any moment.

  I let out a deep sigh. “This is an emergency. I need those books. If I can’t check them out, at least let me take a look at them.” I tried to convey the urgency, but my people skills really weren’t up to par.

  She gnawed at her bottom lip while my gaze drilled into her, as if I could will her to help me.

  “O-Okay … but we’re even after this!” She pointed a finger at me.

  Her fingers flew across the keyboard. She was either searching for what I needed or sending out an SOS via email. Whatever it was, I’d find out soon enough. If the cops didn’t show up, I had a feeling whoever killed Kendall Carter would.

  “We only have two books on Germanic runes. Uh … if you follow me, they’re in the back,” she said as she went around the desk. I took one last look at the library entrance and followed her into the stack of bookshelves.

  It was a maze. The local library wa
sn’t small, but I never thought it was big enough to get lost in. Tables were scattered between rows of shelves for those who dove deep into the labyrinth. We came to a stop in front of a glass door. Charlie took a set of keys from her pocket and opened it. She closed the door before opening another that led to the restricted area. We finally stopped in a section tilted European Mythology and she began scanning spines for the reference numbers she had jotted down on a sticky note.

  “Here we go,” she said, pulling out two textbooks that had been placed side by side. I took them from her before she had the chance to offer them.

  Hurriedly, I went to the nearest table and set them down. I shuffled through the pages hoping to find the meaning behind the rune carved into Kendall Carter.

  “Please be careful. They’re very old and delicate books.”

  I grunted.

  She cleared her throat behind me. “Can I help you with anything in particular?”

  “Not unless you know the runic alphabet,” I said mindlessly.

  “Well no,” she mumbled. “But I can tell you where it is.”

  My eyes snapped to hers. “Where?”

  She approached me like I was a feral animal—she wasn’t too far off—and flipped through the pages of the textbook.

  “Here you go. Some are still unknown, but a great majority have been translated. Can I—”

  “I got it from here,” I said without pulling my gaze from the book. She muttered something unintelligible and disappeared into the stacks.

  Halfway through the runic alphabet was what I’d been looking for. The meaning made my mouth dry and hands tremble.

  Chaos and destruction.

  Not much scared me, but this revelation rattled me to the core. I imagined Kendall’s body from the pictures, and aside from her mutilated body, the only other injury of concern was the missing eye. Odin’s eye.

  My father—the all-knowing god Odin—sacrificed his eye many moons ago in the pursuit of wisdom. Odin was never satisfied; he always wanted more knowledge. But what did that have to do with the rune?